Game Making
by Naisa
Summary: On the day of the Reaping, no one can control who will be chosen or who will survive the Hunger Games. But today you will. You, the reader, get to decide the fates of these tributes. You choose the arena, which character shall emerge from it victorious and who shall perish. This time, you are the Game Makers. Let the 61st Hunger Games begin. SYOT open, vote/submit an arena.


_IMPORTANT AN:_

_Hi everyone!_

_This is a story about an average Hunger Games, one of many that happened in Panem. Only there's a twist. YOU get to decide which tributes shall enter the arena, what the arena shall be, who shall emerge from it victorious and who shall perish. _

_In this story, you are the Game Makers._

_Here's how it's going to work - you can currently submit your own tribute, via review or PM, and vote on my profile what arena you would like to see in this story, you can also submit your own idea for an arena if you want :) __Once all the tributes have been introduced you can then vote for the tributes you would like to see survive the Games as you read about their training, and then when they're in the arena itself._

_With SYOT you can write your own chapter for when your tribute is chosen or just give me info about their personality, talents, family etc, and I'll write it up for you. In case of more than one person selecting the same tribute, it will be on a first come, first served basis. Characters from district 12 are already taken, but all the rest are up for grabs! :)_

_I think that's all you need to know for now, keep an eye on ANs just in case I add anything more. Don't forget to suggest and/or vote on an arena (the poll is on my profile) and submit a tribute if you have an idea for one. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask :)_

_Each chapter will have the 2 tributes from the district and we're starting with 12. The female character was written by me, and the male by my friend Gina Moriarty (FF name) :) _

_So, before this AN gets any longer, let's move onto the chapter. I hope you enjoy the story! And may the fortunes be forever in your tribute's favour!_

* * *

Part 1: The Reaping

District 12

Amelia

Amelia checked her appearance again in the cracked mirror. She had tried to make herself as presentable as possible, but it was difficult. How could someone try and look pretty for an event which would lead to the death of twenty three innocent children? It wasn't fair, it wasn't right, and yet here she was, standing in front of the mirror trying to look pretty for the Capitol.

She brushed through her shoulder length dark brown hair one last time, and sighed, it would have to do. At least she got a day off from work, although her job was a lot better than working in the mines like Oskar or her father. She worked in the merchant side of town and had been for the last three years, going from house to house finding odd jobs to do. She had regular and generous employers and could sometimes earn a fair bit of money doing the cooking and cleaning, other times her and her father went to bed hungry.

On those days Amelia longed to escape the life she lived in, a life where you didn't know if you would be fed that day, or if your loved ones would return from the mines alive.

Entering the Hunger Games was not the way she planned to escape her life however. She would much rather stay where she was, with her father. It had always been just the two of them, her mother hadn't survived giving birth to her. Amelia wondered what it would be like, having a mother beside her, she would be just as nervous about this day but at least she would be able to comfort her husband, who had no one to hold onto as he watched his daughter stand with crowds of other children in the Reaping.

It may have been eighteen years ago, but she could tell he still missed her.

Amelia's father came into the room at that moment, his eyes looking worried and tired. "Are you ready?" He asked in a soft voice.

Amelia nodded. "Ready as I'll ever be." She didn't want to leave her father, who looked so frail and alone as he stood there, but she had promised she would get him some food from the market before the Reaping, and she needed to see Oskar too.

"I'll see you at home this evening," her father said, his eyes suddenly determined. He was sure he would not lose his daughter that day, but as Amelia hugged her father tightly she knew there was no guarantee of what was going to happen.

* * *

Amelia spotted Oskar through the busy market place, she couldn't help but smile and run up to him, throwing her arms around his neck. He didn't see her coming until she had barrelled into him, and despite what the day was, he laughed with surprise.

"Woah, steady on there!" He said. Amelia laughed as well, she couldn't help it, she loved his laugh.

"Sorry, I just...I'm feeling all over the place today." Amelia bumbled, giving him a quick kiss before she unlocked her arms from around his neck.

"It's okay, I understand," Oskar said, the thought of the Reaping weighing heavily on his mind too. He suddenly looked very serious, Amelia noticed the lines etched across his face, of stress and hard work. They were only barely visible, but at the age of eighteen they shouldn't be there at all. She kissed him again, gentler this time, to try and cheer him up. It worked a little, but not much.

The two of them then walked, hand in hand, through the busy market place. The two of them kept trying to talk about everyday things to try and put their minds off what was about to happen in a couple of hours. The very mention of the Reaping made Amelia's stomach clench with worry and terror. She had to keep on reminding herself this was the last ever time her name would be put into the Reaping ball. She was eighteen now, same as Oskar, the two of them only had to make it through this Reaping and they would be free from the Hunger Games, until they faced the burden of their own children going through it.

"How are your family?" Amelia asked casually as she bought some bread from one market stall.

Oskar shrugged, "They're fine, nervous, as you would expect." Oskar's family was the opposite of Amelia's in terms of size, he was the youngest of a family of five, with both parents still alive. All of them worked down in the mines. But Oskar's family and Amelia's father knew each other well, and they both shared the painful fear of losing the one they loved to the iron grip of the capitol. Amelia wasn't sure what she would do if she ever lost Oskar or her father.

Despite Amelia's efforts, the two quickly ran out of things to say, both their minds fixed on the Reaping. She tried to focus on the life of the marketplace around her, rather than what might happen to them that evening.

Amelia loved her district, it was her home, yet at the same time it filled her with pain and sadness. The people around her were so thin, their faces and eyes hollow with years of suffering and hunger, children ran across the street bare foot because their parents could hardly afford to clothe them. It wasn't fair. Amelia herself was thin from the lack of food. Every year she offered to put her name in the Reaping more times so they would have more supplies, but every time her father turned down her offer with fierce determination. He would not have his only daughter increase the chances of her premature death just for his benefit. Oskar's family also felt the same way, and worked as hard as they possibly could to try and prevent their youngest from entering his name more than it was needed, but they had a big family to feed. Twenty slips with his name on it would be in the Reaping ball today, Amelia only hoped it wasn't enough for him to get chosen.

Amelia looked a lot like Oskar in a way. They both had olive-coloured skin and dark hair, but Oskar had brown eyes while she had grey, only he said they were silver, his silver-eyed girl. Amelia caught her reflection in the puddle and wondered, with dread in her heart, how someone like her could possibly survive the Hunger Games. So thin and weak looking, but she could feel a spark within her, she knew she would fight if she had to, for the ones she loved.

But she shouldn't think like that, because she wasn't going to be chosen anyway. She kept on telling herself this, she was just one name amongst hundreds of others, her last chance to ever get picked. What were the chances of her or Oskar having their name read out? Very low indeed, and all they had to do was escape this one last Reaping and their names would never be put in it again.

She looked up at Oskar, and could tell the same worried thoughts were running through his head. She squeezed his hand. "One more day," she whispered with a smile, "and it'll all be over for us."

"I'll smile when the day is over and I know we are both safe," Oskar admitted, he did not feel so confident about them escaping the Hunger Games so easily.

"And when this day comes to an end, we can focus on spending the rest of our days together," Amelia added, and this time Oskar managed to give a small smile. "I hope," he said, but he was still pulling his typical worried frown.

"We've managed to find each other every year after the Reaping is over," Amelia added. "We've managed to escape the Hunger Games and be with each other for another year. We'll get through this one too Oskar, we'll find each other again, I promise."

* * *

Amelia wished she felt as invincible as she sounded as she stood amongst fellow teenagers just hours later, waiting for the Reaping to begin. Her heart was in her mouth and every breath burned her dry throat.

Just one more hour, one hour, maybe even less, and they would walk away from this, they would be free from the Reaping. They just had to get through this last one.

Amelia peered over the heads of the crowed and spotted Oskar, his eyes were already fixed on her, and they gave each other a brave smile. She wished she could stand beside him and squeeze his hand at this very moment. She needed someone there but he was just out of her reach and she was surrounded by strangers.

As the escort, with his elaborate hair and make-up, began to speak, the words nothing but a buzz in Amelia's ear, she peered around, searching for her father.

She spotted his balding head and dark, serious eyes amongst other parents, he looked so worried. She felt like shouting out to him to say that everything would be okay. It wasn't a promise she could keep, but she hated to see him looking so sad. She wanted to tell him that soon they could go home and carry on with the rest of their lives, and they could take care of each other as they always did. There was no need to look so afraid.

But then a name tore away Amelia's attention from her father, and made her heart stop.

A name, called out by the escort:

"Amelia Nayah."

Her name.

The whole world seemed to have suddenly ground to a halt, as Amelia stood there, frozen, her own name echoing through her head.

_NO_ her mind screamed, _PLEASE NO!_ She had come so close to escaping these games, to returning to the arms of the ones she loved and continuing with the rest of her life.

But she felt like her life had just ended.

She could feel hundreds of eyes staring at her, but she couldn't look at anyone, not Oskar, not even her father. She felt like she had let them all down, like it was her fault.

How could this be? Surely this was a nightmare?

But it wasn't. Her heavy feet taking her very slowly to the front of the Justice Building were very much real. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't think, so she just kept walking.

When Amelia reached the front of the stage, she stared out at the hundreds of faces now gazing up at her. The same thoughts going through their minds as hers had done for so many years, sympathy, worry, a knowing that someone from district twelve in the Hunger Games had little chance of returning home. She just hoped the next name that would be called out wouldn't be Oskar's. If things weren't bad enough, she didn't know how she would be able to cope if they had to kill each other. The thoughts made Amelia want to give up right on the spot, she might as well prepare herself to be the first to die in the games, because how else could she make it? What talent did she have to help her survive? She had nothing.

But then someone else called out her name from the crowd.

"Amelia!" Cried out Oskar, making Amelia jump. Her terrified eyes looked up and saw where he was calling to her. She had no idea what was going through his head, but whatever it was he knew it could be one of the last chances he could speak to her and to ask her the question he had always wanted to ask. "Amelia Nayah, will you marry me?"

Tears stung Amelia's eyes as she nodded. "Yes!" She found herself calling out, her voice sounding surprisingly strong. Of course she would, she always would, she always dreamed one day they could.

It was at that moment that Amelia Nayah decided that, whatever happened, she would try her best to survive and fight through these games, because Oskar had made her realise, there was always something to live for.

* * *

District 12

Asher

Asher woke up to the sound of his name in his ear.

"Asher. Asher. Asher."

He groaned, rolled over, and smacked his sister in the face.

"Ow."

"Serves you right." He opened his eye by a millimetre or so and closed it almost instantly. "It's barely even light, why are you waking me up?"

She didn't answer straight away, and when she did, her voice was quiet. "It's Reaping day."

Asher opened his eyes, half-thanking the early morning light for not hurting them, and looked at Kalisa. She was a typical Seam girl – olive skin, grey eyes (though hers were almost black, they were so dark), and dark hair. She was already dressed, but not for the Reaping, there were a few things she wanted to do beforehand.

"Come on," she said, regaining her strong voice, "get dressed – we've got people to see today."

Asher nodded, and she left the small room they slept in. Sitting up, he stretched his arms and got out of bed, reaching for his clothes as he did so. He changed quickly before heading to the communal area where Kalisa was waiting for him with some meagre breakfast.

"Happy Reaping," she said hollowly, passing him a bowl of lumpy porridge.

"Happy Reaping," Asher repeated back to her in the same tone. The two of them ate their food in silence as the sun began to lift above the horizon.

They didn't expect to see their housemates, it was still too early. They shared the house with three other families – the Ikksons, the Camairas and the Twies. Each family had a room to sleep in, a small communal bathroom (which was more of an outhouse than anything) and a communal kitchen-dining room. Being the family with the least members, Asher and Kalisa had the smallest room. They got on well with the other members of their household, and when they had been younger, the elderly Mrs Twy had told Asher stories. She had passed on only last year, starvation finally claiming her so that her grandchildren could eat.

Placing the bowls in the sink, the Tuchan siblings slipped on their shoes and left the house. Asher yawned and rubbed his eyes as they stepped into the sunlight, it'd been ages since he'd been up this early.

"Where to first?" he asked.

Kalisa shrugged. "Does it matter?"

"Yes."

She looked at him, grey eyes meeting blue, which contrasted his olive skin and dark hair. "I dunno," she said with a sigh. "I didn't think about order. I just promised that I'd go round."

"You could do it alphabetically."

"Mmh," was her only reply as she looked away, her gaze resting on the Seam.

District Twelve may be poor, dirty and starved, but it was still home. And chances were, today would be the last day Kalisa would see it.

She'd put her name in the tesserae as many times as she could over the years to give her and her brother some extra food, and not once allowed him to put his in. They'd always gotten by. But she was eighteen now, and the odds were most certainly not in her favour.

"Let's get going." Her voice cut through the silence. Asher nodded, then – in a gesture that made him feel younger than he was – he reached out to take her hand.

She clung to it as if it would be the only thing to save her from the Reaping.

They set off into the Seam.

* * *

Later that morning, after visiting a few families, Asher noticed that the entire District was empty.

_Probably spending the time with loved ones,_ Asher thought, _or just enjoying the relief that they aren't in the Reaping._ A stab of jealousy coursed through him, thinking of the adults who had escaped the grasp of the Capitol. As he glanced at his sister though, his jealousy turned into despair. _One more year, and she's free. But she's got the most names in that damned thing. She's bound to get chosen…_ His thoughts trailed off as he fought back tears.

"Where are we going now?" he asked, failing to hide the cracking of his voice.

Kalisa looked at him, but didn't comment. "The bakery, with the Mellarks." Asher nodded.

The two of them had reached the merchant part of Twelve, home of the blonde-haired-blue-eyed people of the District. Their great-grandfather had grown up here, giving Asher the blue eyes that stood out starkly in the Seam.

The Mellarks' bakery was, like every other shop that day, closed. Kalisa barely even glanced at the sign as she passed it and went to the side of the building, where a small alleyway led to the back parts of the high street.

What would have been a back garden in some of the nicer districts was instead a pig pen. Kalisa opened the gate in the fence, holding it open for Asher, who closed it behind them. They waded through the mixture of bad food and manure that lined the ground to get to the back door. Kalisa knocked.

After a few moments of silence and then a few more of shuffling, the door opened to Mr Mellark, whose face bore a small smile.

"Kalisa," he said, semi-cheerfully. "You made it."

Kalisa smiled back, replying as chirpily as she could. "Of course, Mr Mellark. I wouldn't want to miss out on seeing my favourite student!"

Mr Mellark laughed. "Broan's in the family room," he said. Kalisa nodded, and the siblings entered the tiny baker's kitchen. "Morning Asher," he added as Asher wiped his boots on the doormat. Asher looked up at the baker, and gave a strained smile in return. Mr Mellark clasped Asher's shoulder briefly before leaving.

Kalisa was already in the small living room. "Hi Broan!" she said happily to the five year old.

"Kali Kali Kali Kali!" chanted Broan as he stomped over to her and tackled her. Asher stood in the doorway and watched. Kalisa laughed as she fell over.

"Ooh, you got me! You must be really strong now!"

"Yeah I am!" agreed Broan, showing off his arms and Kalisa fawned over them.

Out the corner of his eye, Asher noticed a small person head unsteadily towards him and gently tug on his trousers. Asher crouched down and picked up the three year old. "Hey Peeta," he said, grinning.

"Ashash!" said Peeta, hugging his neck. Damper, who was only two years away from being in the Reaping himself, watched solemnly from the stairs.

Asher couldn't help but feel that this may be the last time he'd see the Mellarks.

* * *

Kalisa and Asher spent the rest of the morning visiting the children that Kalisa taught at the local preschool, but as the day wore on, the Reaping drew closer.

Arriving quicker than they would have liked, the event was upon them. They stood in their designated spots – Kalisa with the eighteen year old girls, and Asher with his fellow fifteen-year-olds. He zoned out during the compulsory speech about the destruction of 'America', the birth of Panem, and then the uprisings and the creation of the Games.

Finally came the actual choosing of the Tributes. The male escort, whose name escaped Asher (he thought it sounded like basket?), flounced over to the bowls. As was tradition, the girls were first.

Asher held his breath.

"And the female tribute is…" Basket said in his Capitol accent, pausing for dramatic effect. "Amelia Nayah!"

Asher sighed, relieved. He glanced over at his sister, wanting to give her a smile, but stopped when he saw her face. She looked like she was going to be sick. Then he remembered – Amelia was a friend of Kalisa's.

He turned his head back to the stage as Amelia arrived at it, but found his head being whipped around once more when Amelia's named was called out again.

"Amelia Nayah, will you marry me?" came the question from the guy that was Amelia's boyfriend – Asher couldn't remember his name either. It was only then that he realised how rubbish at remembering names he was.

"Yes!" came the tear-filled reply, but Amelia's face had renewed determination.

Basket looked simply delighted at the prospect of a proposal at his given district. "Well then," he said happily. "Congratulations Amelia! We're all very happy for you, I'm sure, but we must continue with the Reaping." Amelia didn't even listen to him.

Without a care, Basket practically skipped over to the bowl that held the male names. "And the male Tribute is…" Another pause for dramatic effect, during which he hoped that Amelia's boyfriend wouldn't be chosen if possible.

"Asher Tuchan."

All sound seemed to drain from the world as everyone in his section turned to look at him. Numbly, he began the trek to the stage. It seemed so far away, but at the same time, it came to him too quickly.

Despite the silence around him, he could hear Kalisa sobbing.

As he reached the stage, and the escort finished up the Reaping, Asher only thought one thing:

_The odds were never in my favour._


End file.
